- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Online Availability
- My timezone is PST
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Futanari
- Genres
- Homosexual, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Magic, Vampire, Werewolf, Supernatural, Angels/Demons, Superhero, Zombies
Jin Jeong
Idol, Producer, Theater
Idol, Producer, Theater
Location | Date | Apartment
The black town car cruised through the city streets with ease, its lustrous shine reflecting everything it passed. Its current image projected was the curious gaze of those bustling around. The sidewalks were filled with crowds of people, preoccupied with going about their lives until they caught a glimpse of the luxury vehicle driving by. The latest Genesis G90 was the pinnacle of opulence. Just to set eyes on it was a rare occurrence for the average person, leaving those in its wake to wonder what figure of importance might be sitting behind the tinted windows.
As Jeong stared blankly out the window from the back seat, he watched the world pass by without him. The world was loud, so incredibly loud when every noise felt like an explosion in his head. His sensitive ears were covered by his favorite pair of headphones, hugging his head tightly and blocking out the background noise of the world. In his ears, the gentle soundtrack of Il Trovatore filled his head.
The opera was one which he had been fortunate enough to see while his mother was still alive, and he often listened to it to calm his anxious thoughts. A story about a bastard son held a special place to him, like kindred spirits each fighting their own battles. But, even as the Italian's soprano voice belted its aria at the height of the song, even it was not enough to settle his mind today.
As his dark holographic nails listlessly danced along the door, he contemplated jumping out, feeling his feet becoming restless as he pictured himself fleeing. But, as much as he would love to feel the fresh air fill his lungs, he still hesitated. The consequences of such a blatant disregard of obligations, outweighing his desire to escape.
The entire morning was spent in similar indecision, with every step not without his near-constant wavering.
As his manager, or rather the man's true role as his families substitute guardian meant to keep Jeong focused and out of trouble, entered his room first thing in the morning the raven-haired youth hid under his covers, hoping this was all a dream. After a stern scolding, Jeong arose like a zombie, a dead expression and all. The groan that rumbled in his throat was all the protest he could muster, his energy depleted from spending another night restlessly awake.
Jeong's next silent display of uncertainty was with a long shower, which he intentionally stretched out in order to bide his time to think. However, it seemed that with every thought he only grew more confused.
When his manager first proposed the idea of signing up for the show, Jeong immediately rejected it. It involved too many cameras, too much attention, and fuss when he simply wanted to stay in his studio and make music. It was already a struggle to attend events like award shows, and he seldom performed concerts for this exact reason. To have to live while being recorded constantly, all to be viewed by potentially millions of people was suffocating.
More than that, the concept itself felt morally wrong. It wasn't a question about falling in love, Jeong already knew that was impossible. From watching his father and step mother's loveless marriage, to the numerous dates his family's hired matchmaker has sent him on, true love doesn't exist. At least not for him, and to pretend it did for the sake of the show would be plain deception. Jeong just didn't want to partake in something like that.
Instead of listening to his concerns, however, his family too started pressuring him into accepting the offer. To them, it was great exposure and would provide Jeong with an opportunity to reach even more people than before. In the end, all they saw was fame and fortune. It didn't take long for his objections to cease.
Even though the show offered to pay for a stylish, Jeong was adamant that he do it himself. The thought of someone caring for him like that, doing the things he was perfectly able to do for himself was...uncomfortable as if he was being a burden.
As Jeong dried his hair he did so carelessly, leaving it in its usual messy appearance. It hung down his neck, sometimes shifting in his face and making it difficult for others to see him properly. His manager always pestered him about it, saying that he should get it cut, or style it so that his "pretty" facial features could be better seen. However, it was that exact reason he preferred it like that. With his hair, it felt like a shield, as if those tiny strands kept him safe from all those judgmental glances. He could hide, even if just a little.
When it came to clothes, Jeong was equally uninterested. His style could be described as unfashionable. Regardless of any trends, he always stuck with items within his comfort. This meant oversized clothes that modestly covered his body in mute clothes, best for going unnoticed. For today, this included a tan-colored knitted sweater with a chest pocket accent. His pants were grey skinny jeans rolled up at the bottom with earthy colored sneakers. It was decent, his manager made sure of it, but he certainly didn't look like the typical flashy idol.
Even with Jeong's neverending internal battle, he still was running excessively early. As the car rolled to a gentle stop in front of the racing arena, the engines purr subsided. His slender finger swiped his phone, letting the music to fall silent and slipping the headphones around his neck. It was quiet, and now he was utterly alone inside his mind.
"We're here Sir," The driver spoke, turning his head to look at Jeong in the back seat. "Hng…" A mumble of acknowledgment mixed with apprehensiveness was all that the youth could summon at that moment. With his grey orbs trained on the world outside, he savored the last few moments of peace before facing the commotion that awaited him. Even with the sidewalk blocked from pedestrians, there were still crowds of onlookers wanting to catch a glimpse of their favorite idols.
The film crew was stationed on the sidewalk, preparing to capture the opening shot of Jeong exiting his car and arriving for the first date. All around was the glint of lenses, with cameras mounted onto cherry pickers hovering in the sky, to cameras attached to cameramen with a vest, and even fans cell phone poking up from the mass of people. Behind them, stood people holding boomsticks and bright floodlights illuminating the building. Even further back was the director, barking orders into a headset for the production team to follow. Dozens of people, all ready to capture every unforgiving detail.
As he glanced around, he weighed his options. It was too late to leave. After seeing everyone's expectant faces, all eager and anticipating his arrival, he simply didn't have the heart to disappoint them. With a deep breath, he reached for the handle. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, repeated in his mind like a mantra.
The moment that the door opened, Jeong was hit with an onslaught of overwhelming sensations. Outside, the world was abuzz with life. The sounds of cars honking and construction machines echoed through the tall buildings. His nose crinkled at the smell of noxious gasoline before the heavenly scent of spicey Tteokbokki from a nearby pojangmacha catering the film crew wafted over. The cool breeze felt refreshing on his overheated skin, causing his hair to blow around his face.
"Annyeong hasimnikka." (Formal. "Good afternoon") Jeong spoke softly, giving a respectful bow to the director. Even as the chattering of eager fans grew louder, Jeong merely lifted his head for an awkward wave. He didn't have it in him to peek up from the ground, knowing that if he saw the number of people looking at him he wouldn't be able to recover.
Jeong paused, taking a moment to catch his breath, fidgetting with his glasses and idly straightening out his clothes. He was stalling, trying to build up the courage to enter the building. I'm almost inside. Just a little more. The voice of receiving a call from his father, disappointed and angry that he was again ruining their image was enough to push him on.
The youth tentatively strode forward, his long legs taking wide steps to close the gap faster. With a trembling hand lifting to meet the door handle in a tight grasp, he froze. What am I doing? This is too much. As his hand fell away from the door, he stood motionless as he debated in his mind. This was a bad idea, I should go. As Jeong went to take a step back, he found that his feet had grown heavy, as if they had sunk into the cement and he was unable to lift them for a single step.
As he stood paralyzed, he could feel the eyes and camera's boring holes in him. The area around him seemed void of air, as every gulp never quenched the burning in his lungs. He was stuck, petrified in place by his own thoughts, unable to do anymore that remain standing. However, his impassive expression never hinted at the war he was waging inside.
Created by Black_Sheep & edited by Jenamos[/CENTER]
